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What used to be
Date: January 19th 1892 Today was the usual shit jobs. The ones I complete at my pace, the way I wanna do it. Anybody says different can say it after hours, in the ring. Date: January 25th 1892 They had me fighting Stephen from North docks today, the Pole had no chance. He looked weedy like, all shoulders and no chest or arm power. Needs more time pulling chains the skeleton. "Red Sash" told me he didn't think I'd last past the fourth round. What does that Toff know? At least he pays well. First round Generally a pansy dance, both of us doing foot work, trying to spot mistakes. Occasionally slipping up, giving the wrong idea. By the second time we'd circled around each other I was already playing the crowd, letting him soften me up, with rib upper cuts, and jaw jabs for blood. Bastard gave me a fat lip, then taunted "You feelin weak tommy?" damn Pole insulting me like that. Had to whack him one in the mouth to shut up. The crowd loved his blood flying into the front row, they started cheering "Rigg, RIgg" when I gave him a second uppercut. Swearing something in Polish he shoulderbarged me, knocked the wind out of me. Best shot he'd seen all day. Ding for the end of the round. He got pampered in his corner, I just stayed focused, watching him. Second Round Stephy was daring in the second round. Wasted lots of energy doing some wide punches, gave a few kidneys for him to wince about. Dumb fuck. He started going red, and his cotten shirt was getting darker with sweat. He got lucky when one of the flounces in the crowd gave me a flash of cleavage. I'll never learn. Could only see that bosom with one eye after that, Stephy knuckled my eye good, poor mistake by me. Crowd cheers "Stephy!" pissed me off, no one plays my crowd. Round three was a bit delayed because with one blood filled eye, I launched myself at him and started jeering his face left and right with my fists. This time both of us had blood shot eyes and was pooring sweat from our brows, both focused on the other, watching his breathing, expressionless. Still as statues. A guy walked in behind Stephy, he had a cloak on him, gave Stephy some dutch courage in a shot, most probably the cheap whiskey from Benny's, by the shore. Round Four We both went at it like animals. First I blocked then he blocked, I did a double smash to his arms then a quick swipe across his face, he in turn winded me then did a couple of right crosses. Lost my balance, he had the chance to pin me and do a few good hard swings but he missed his chance. I looked up, Stephy looked different under the sweat and nose stains. He looked toned, like the juices were flowin in 'em. His eyes glowed a rusty colour. I got to my feet, noticed he was doing a wind up for a big upper, dodged, sent him packing with one to the kidney and the lung after he passed me. The fucker didn't move, he stood there and laughed, smiling, a laugh I haven't heard him do before. Normally the pansy had more of a jolly chuckle, this was a much deeper broader laugh. Like he'd smoked 10 bobs worth, in a tea break. Glaring eyes. He floored me with one jab to the head. I could see "Red Sash" smiling down into the ring from his seat. No way I was going to give him the satisfaction of being right. I got back to me feet, just. Spent the rest of the round dodging haymakers ... as much because I was staggering from the last one that put me down as because I was actually getting out of the way. Round five saved me. I wasn't out yet, but I was seeing stars, for the first time Stephy was fighting back. Shaking it off after a cold bucket of sea water, washing away the fuzz from my eyes, to see before me an animal of a man clawing the bar stool and being held in his seat grinning at me. He shouted with some depraved voice "Gona get you today Rig, Rest time". My fellow man whispered me, "the bookies are hotting up on you losin' Rigsy", his worried face said it all, I was letting my dock down. The news worked, it got my edge back. Going into the ring I bid my time. I knew I couldn't do loose throw away points, at the kidneys his back, it didn't stop him. I had to do some heavy jabs to the head and brain dead him. He seems slower than he normally was. I checked this out, I went for a jab at his neck, his arm came up to block and I spun round and upper cut him in the back of the head, just brushing his shirt and ripping it. I could see his blood pumping through his body in a canal of vessels. The man had become a much heavier build, but he was slower. The dazz sent him into an ape like swagger, swaying his large arms to keep his balance. I knew this was the shot. Three sweeps with a jab in between sent the ape crashing to the floor, and he got up. Still smiling but through some missing teeth and what looked like a collapsed jaw bone. he still came at me, with all of his force, ducking and diving I sent him soaring. Landing on the deck, with a thud that rocked the barrels of the make-shift ring. The man streamed blood from his mouth, interrupted by his breathing. I slumped to the floor, victorious but upset like a big game hunter must feel like when he gets his best trophy that hes been stalking for months. I felt sorry for the man, he wasn't going to be the same after this. The crowd cheered and whooped for a while, then a fanfair of ripped tickets and chip paper were the only things I could focus on. The crowd flocked into Benny's, I had my back to them and all I heard was the door flapping like a loose main sail. Stephy's crew attended to the wreck I'd left, I felt sorry for the guy. After that I remember a ringing sound, then everything went black. Valentine Beating Rig's Journal